A Heart-Shaped Box
by Aluminesa
Summary: Series of fun little drabbles for the Puffs and their Ruffs. Reds, Blues, and Greens.
1. Chapter 1

**Office Secrets**

/

"Have you finished reviewing the Greenburrow files I gave you yesterday?"

Brick Jojo raised his head from neck of the long-legged blonde in his lap, staring incredulously at the woman standing in the entrance of his cubicle. He quickly nudged the now giggling girl off of his person, straightening his tie and short red hair.

"Well?" the woman persisted, her cold glare settled on the fidgeting man before her. Her hands clenched together behind her back, posture tight and professional.

The girl (one of the front desk girls with the ever-admirable trait of having little to no shame) and her giggles quickly quieted at the tense atmosphere the woman standing before them had produced. She pulled down her risen skirt and adjusted her top nervously.

Brick let loose a slight sigh, letting an easy smile overtake his lips.

"I'm on my break-"

"Have you reviewed the files?" the woman cut in, her arms crossing tightly against her chest. Her chin lowered, her hazel gaze burning. Brick's smile faltered and faded as his gaze flickered towards the tall stack of papers that sat untouched on his desk.

"….no." he muttered, turning his gaze to the now fascinating-must-be-stared-at shoes on his feet. He could feel the fire in the woman's gaze intensifying.

The woman turned her gaze to Ms. Derran, who proceeded to whisper a hurried apology as she all but ran from Brick's cubicle. Brick nearly flinched when her gaze returned to him. Smoothing down her pleated skirt, she walked with a deceptive calm manor into his large cubicle. She didn't stop until she was far into his personal bubble, leaning down with a hand resting on the back of his swivel chair. Brick found his breathing limited as her face grew closer to his, those burning eyes focused on his dark nervous, red-ish brown ones.

"Mr. Jojo, you would do well to get your ass in gear. I don't care if you are the boss's son. If you're going to be here you're going to work. Your…_business_ with Ms. Derran can wait."

Brick smirked. There was always something so satisfying about ruffling his foster-father's uptight personal assistant.

His posture relaxing some, he reached a hand up to brush a curl of rose petal- colored hair that had escaped the woman's tight bun behind her ear. His thumb brushed lightly against the ends of her glasses. "Is that a tone of jealousy I hear in your voice, Ms. Utonium?"

Ms. Utonium's face fell into a rather irritated _Are-You-Serious?_ scowl. She smacked his hand away and straightened her back. "_Jealousy?_ No offense to Ms. Derran, but she's not really my type."

"I wasn't talking-" Brick was once again cut off as Utonium swung his chair around and roughly pushed him into his desk. Through the reflection of the screen of his computer, he could see her retreating back.

_What a perky back it was…_

"Get to work, Jojo. Oh, and if you don't mind…" she paused, looking over her shoulder at him before continuing out.

"Stop starring at my ass."

* * *

Get to work he did…

Sort of. After a few hours of online solitary, the threat of another of his father's long-winded lectures finally got to him. God knows how many hours it took to get through the stack (it'd been as long as his damn arm). Ms. Darren had returned, hoping for more attention, but he'd waved her off without looking up. When he'd finally, _finally_, finished, hands cramping fiercely from so much writing, one of his co-workers showed up to let him know that Ms. Utonium no longer required the files. She'd had someone else do them.

"…_.WHAT?!" _

Brick's fist smashed into the stall door in the men's room. As much as he'd wanted to make a scene in the office, he wasn't quite up to dealing with the massive amount of shit he'd get from his dad about it. So when Ms. Harpy-Bitch's message had reached him, he had calmly:

Stood up,

Thrown every damn file to the floor,

And stomped into the men's bathroom.

(which had thankfully been empty)

With one last hard kick to the abused door, Brick walked to the sink and threw some water on his face. Yanking loose his tie, he reached into his pants pocket and brought out his cellphone.

He'd had enough of this shit. He didn't care if it was Wednesday and his dad would most defiantly notice; he wasn't coming back for the rest of the week. The old man could throw all the fits he wanted. Brick knew he'd never fire him.

Brick absent-mindedly thumbed through his contacts. Ms. Darren may not have gotten around to giving him her number but he had plenty of other faceless girls in his phone that'd be more than happy to take his edge (and quite possibly all of his clothes) off.

He'd been just about to pick one when a familiar tune caught his attention.

_Love is like a bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb_

Confused, Brick went to the door and looked outside. The lights were off, everyone long gone.

_Bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb_

Brick stepped out of the bathroom, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Slowly, he made his way down the sea of cubicals, following the sound of Def Leppard.

_Love is like a bomb, bomb_

One office light was still on.

_I'm hot_

Brick slowly pushed open the door some, peaking in curiously.

His jaw dropped.

'_Ms. Utonium is shaking her hips. I repeat, Harpy-Bitch-Utonium, prude of all prudes, is __**shaking her hips**__. What the hell kind of dream is this!?'_

Utonium was, indeed, shaking her hips. And shoulders. And that perky back that Brick did so admire.

_Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on_

_Livin' like a lover with a radar phone_

_Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp_

_Demolition woman, can I be your man?_

Brick watched in awe as the woman who he had more than once accused of being raised by demented nuns unbutton the first 3 buttons of her white silk blouse. She reached up and tore away her hair tie, shaking free her long sunset red waves.

_Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light_

_Television lover, baby, go all night_

_Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet_

_Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah_

Brick scanned the room for a moment, immediately relieved to see that his father was not being the recipient of such a display (gag). He looked back to the still oblivious woman, who had now kicked off her heels and jumped up onto her boss's desk to perform a rather impressive air-guitar solo.

He couldn't help it. He placed to fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly.

Utonium slipped and fell off the desk with a small scream.

"What the fuck?!"

Brick, feeling a little guilty but grinning a truly shit-eating grin, walked over and pulled her to her feet . His grin grew 10x larger when he looked over and noticed the name plate on the smaller desk across from his fathers.

"Nice moves, _Blossom_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I said mostly modern, right? Right. Ok. Here we go.**

**I'd like to thank my current hot and sexy Beta and the song **_**"Burn- "Dead To Me"" by Madi**__**Diaz**_** that I listened to (mixed in with random classical pieces) making this chappie.**

* * *

**Come Out, Come Out**

Through a dark forest in the dim night, a woman walked alone. She seemed to carry little else but a brown leather satchel stuffed with school papers and a small lantern to light her way. Her boots crunched through the autumn leaves on the ground, disrupting the quiet of the night.

A sharp wind shook the trees surrounding her. Her blue dress swayed and wisps of fine gold hair escaped the two braids crowning her head. She gave a small cry as three pages flew from her bag and tumbled farther into the dark. With haste, she dashed after them, clutching her petticoat as she ran. She could only just see them a few feet in front of her, dancing in the wind. She hoped desperately, lantern banging against the back of her white thigh, while its handle rested in her hands, that she wouldn't end up setting her dress aflame in her haste.

When the wind finally died down, her papers had led her to a small clearing were a stream ran. She nearly shrieked when her papers touched down mere inches from the water. She quickly stomped over and grabbed the papers, shoving the two articles back into her satchel…

Wait

Two?

Cursing under her breathe she scanned the moon-lit area for the missing paper. Her breath caught when she noticed a large shadow sitting at the far edge of the opposite side of the gurgling water. It was too dark to see but she could tell it was a man, crouched down and studying something in his hands.

_The paper!_ "Monsiuer!" she called, smiling with relief.

The man's head shot up. Two bright, bright blue eyes met her own periwinkle orbs. Her smile grew and without thinking she stepped into the water and wadded her way over to the man. It went a little past her knees, but was pleasantly warm.

Her smile faltered some when she saw him shrinking back the closer she came. Holding her lantern up higher, she called out in a soft voice.

"Monsiuer, please do not go! I merely…"

She stopped, her words frozen on her tongue. She was a mere foot from the edge now. By the light of her lantern, she saw him:

His complexion was distorted with sewn patches of skin, every other a different color pigment. A select few had come free from their stitching and flapped with his shivering motions, revealing the gray-red layer of flesh beneath. His hair was a corn blonde and cut irregularly, some slicked backed with mud and sweat while the rest fell around his face. His face was mostly one color but his lips (the top a dusted pink, the bottom a violent red) were sewn shut with crude little x's. He lifted his arms to shield his face, moaning dog-like whimpers. His eyes (one azure, the other cornflower blue) clenched shut against the light of her lamp.

Bubbles gasped softly, putting a quivering hand over her mouth.

"_Cher monsieur seigneur ... vous êtes le monstre!"_

_Dear lord sir….You're the monster!_

He rose (he was so very tall) and fled, his bare feet slapping against the grass and leaves.

Bubbles stared after him, barely noticing that he'd dropped her paper.

* * *

"_Maîtress?"_

_Teacher?_

Bubbles looked up from her sketchbook, smiling down at the little girl standing before her. "_Oui_, _Penelope?"_

_Yes, Penelope?_

The girl withdrew the picture she held from behind her back. Bubbles clapped in delight, setting down her sketches and taking the paper from the girl. "_Magnifique, cher!_ You've improved so much!"

Penelope grinned happily, showing off her missing front tooth. Her gaze fell to her tutor's pad of paper. Curious, she stepped forward to pick it up, only for Bubbles to hurriedly intercept it. "_Maitress?_ What's that?"

"_O-oh rien, chère!"_

_O-oh nothing dear!_

"May I see please? It looked so pretty…"

Bubbles bit her lip, contemplating as she pressed the sketch to her chest. After a moment, she forced herself to relax. There was no need to be so skittish really, especially around such a sweet little girl. Besides, the sketch didn't look like the vicious monster people had described in the newspaper. There were no sharp talons, no dead-eyes filled with malice, nor fangs dripping with blood.

(She couldn't believe the silliness of those people. Sure, he'd given her a fright, but truly it'd been mostly from shock. Her sharp memory flashed back to the moment she'd beheld him; he'd had human hands, with uneven and dirty _yet very human_ fingernails. His eyes had been bursting with color, life, and so, so much fear. And for goodness sake, his poor mouth was _sewn shut._ How on earth could anyone have seen fangs?)

Bubbles placed the sketch in the girl's waiting hands. The girl jumped up onto the bench to sit beside her tutor. Bubbles looked over her shoulder, smiling some at the picture. She'd smoothed away his other-worldly details, drawing him as any other man might look. Strangely, she couldn't help but think his profile… _handsome._

'_What a curious woman I am... Thinking a "monster" handsome…'_

Bubbles was especially proud of the eyes, which unlike the rest of his face, were colored in.

Penelope squealed. _"C'est Mr. Boom!"_

_It's Mr. Boom!_

Bubbles looked down at her excited pupil curiously. _"Excusez-moi?"_

_Excuse me?_

"Mr. Boom! He's so nice, _maîtress. _He brings me daisies and pretty bird feathers! He's my good friend, _maîtress_. Well, mine and my brother's." Penelope's nose wrinkled a little at the mention of her sibling. "I don't like my brother. He puts frogs in my dresser and pulls my hair!"

"_Cher, cher!_ Please, please tell me more about your friend. I-I'd love to hear more about him."

Penelope cocked her head. "Do you know Mr. Boom, _maîtress?"_

Bubbles was puzzled to feel a small blush grace her cheeks. "We've met."

* * *

"Monsieur Boom!"

The monster looked up from the dead bird he was plucking. In his hands he clutched the fine feathers he'd selected from the robin to give to the Girl racing from the mouth of his cave towards him. The ends of his sewn lips turned up some as he straightened and started towards her.

The Girl was nice. He liked The Girl and her brother. With innocence only a child could possess, they smiled at his grotesque face and talked to him. They liked to play piggyback quiet a lot.

He froze when he saw the bigger, cloaked figure slowly treading behind The Girl.

When The Girl reached him (chattering ten miles an hour about something or other, as usual) he immediately shoved her behind him, whining from the back of his throat.

Strangers were bad. Bad, bad, bad. Strangers brought trouble, trouble and screams and burning, burning pain.

_Badbadbadbad_

The Girl, unaware of the danger, continued chattering, tugging insistently at his torn pants. He moaned for her to be silent then growled lowly as he noticed the _badbad__**bad **_stranger grow closer. The stranger stopped, placing something (a…basket?) on the ground and held up their hands.

Pale, dainty hands. Milk white skin on hands and delicate arms.

The hood of the dark blue cloak was pulled back and he stumbled back, accidentally knocking into The Girl.

Pre….tty. The Pretty. The Pretty One from the stream!

Bubbles smiled brightly. She leaned down and brought her picnic basket back into her hands.

"_Bonjour, mon bon monsieur. Voulez-vous un petit déjeuner?"_

_Hello, good sir. Would you like some breakfast?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Light of the 'Verse**

Soldiers lined up on both sides of a long hallway. Each one's eyes darted nervously towards the large blue-glowing gateway at one end as they stood ridged in their battle armor. After a moment, a large figure stepped out from the gateway. The badge around his neck identified him as a Superior Officer, straight from the Alliance. Also around (or rather implanted in) his neck was a breathing apparatus. He stood 7 feet tall with a large, muscled frame covered in gray scales. His head was similar to that of a shark.

The Kalilu smiled, slowly revealing numerous rows of razor-like teeth. More than a few of the men in front of him flinched at the sight.

"Gentlemen! My name is Officer Pico M'yahg. So sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep," he drawled in a rumbling, southern-lit voice. While he spoke, Pico made his way down the hall, glancing into the tense faces of the men.

"But I thought you'd like to meet your new house guest. The specimen I'm about to show you is not to be taken lightly. It would sooner slit your throat than smile at you. It is believed to have killed countless and maimed and mutilated even more. Most of them military, just like you good gentlemen."

Pico paused, turning to face one man in particular. He stared into the human's eyes with his unyielding black gaze. Pico's lip curled at the soldier's unfazed profile.

"Bring it in!" he called over his shoulder, eyes locked on the man in front of him.

Out of the glowing entrance stepped two more figures, more fish folk. Between them they corralled a large carrying cell. It floated two feet off the ground, emanating a glaring white glow.

Pico, finally looking away from the green-eyed man, made his way towards the floating box. With a mean smile, he raised his fist and knocked loudly. Before he reached his third knock, an angry _thump!_ came from the white box, the momentum of the action inside nearly toppling the cell forward. Officer Pico's smile quickly faded as he saw a splintering crack forming on the front of the cell.

Pico nodded to one of the guards. "Lift the veil."

The guard nodded back and lifted two webbed-fingers to a small sliding dial on the side of the box. Within moments the white glow faded, revealing the prisoner inside.

A wave of murmurs went through the lines. Some of the braver men let out whistles and catcalls. The green-eyed Captain sent a glare towards the men in his section, shoving the shoulder of the hooting Ailuranthrope next to him. The were-cat gave a pouty glare but quieted.

The woman in the cell was near bare, the decency of her lilith frame only saved by white strips of cloth on her breasts and groin. Her glossy black hair was long and unevenly cut. The tribal themed tattoos littering her lean frame were vibrant and moving. She had quite a few scars, some from knives and stray bullet grazes. One in particular looked like a healing laser burn.

Her face was lovely, minus the black eye, bleeding forehead, and long red cut across her cheek and nose. Combined with her vicious emerald gaze and the ram horns curled on her head, she looked almost demonic.

Pico stared out at each man, his eyes like black steel. "I have been made aware that you all are not used to having guests onboard your ship. We do not intend to keepher here long, but let me make a few things clear: you are not to disfigure or seriously injure the prisoner. We don't mind a few bruises and cuts, but we need her nice and pretty for her upcoming hearing before the High Council. She is to be kept locked up _at all times_. It's in every one of your best interests not to have something like her loose in your halls."

Behind the Kalilu, the woman smirked.

"We'll write down the rest for you but above all, and this I must stress to you: _**Do. Not. Approach. Her.**_ Under _any_ circumstances. If you need to move her, you shock her, make _sure_ you've knocked her out, and _then_ get her. This is not a woman before you, gentlemen. She is nothing short of a cold blooded killer."

He turned his face to the prisoner, smiling maliciously. "Ain't that right, _buttercup_?"

The woman's face became serene, though Captin Butch noticed a small flicker burning in her eyes. He slowly reached for his pistol.

Her arms, held behind her back by a pair of cuffs, tensed. She laughed, a light trickling sound that sent a chill through the captain.

"_Ooooh, Fishy.~_ When I get out of here? I'm blowing your fucking brains out."

Pico laughed quietly, shoving the box so that she toppled backwards. "Watch your step, little buttercup. Don't think I won't bruise up that pretty little face again."

Quick as lighting, she was on her feet again. Before anyone could blink, the prisoner ducked her head down and threw her body forward.

Her horns connected with the large crack she'd already made in the box earlier and she sprung out, shards flying around her as she broke free of her cuffs. Before Pico could pull out his gun, she'd spun around him, twisting his arm and stabbing him through his elbow with a shard of glass. She grabbed his firearm and kicked him to the ground.

Aiming Pico's gun at his head, the woman stepped onto his back. She laughed again.

"Told you so."

_Blam!_

The woman screamed, grabbing her now gushing shoulder with her free hand.

"Drop your weapon!" Butch screamed, his pistol emitting a small line of steam from the laser beam it had just shot.

The woman stared at him. Her emerald orbs seemed to cut through his armor, through his clothes and skin. They stroked his very bones.

But the smile she gave him shined with the light of the 'verse.

* * *

**I'm starting think I don't know how to write one-shots. All of these are way too easy to continue…**

**Plz review**

**Notes: **

**Kalilu: half fish humanoid**

**Ailuranthrope: something close to a were-cat. Can take the form of both human and cat beast.**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Caution: foul language and violence related to the Vietnam war. **_

_**Also kinda sad at times.**_

* * *

**Neverland**

A young, red-headed man laid in his lonely hospital bed, breathing steady, empty breathes. His eyes were covered by layers of gauze, but his ears were over-run with the unbearable silence of his room.

He still couldn't believe it. That _this_ was how he was going to die. They'd told him he had to leave, to fight for his country. It'd had all sounded so great and noble on paper, until he was actually there, stranded in hell on earth.

In a place where families were slaughtered by brutal animals parading around as men. Where American soldiers were turned into mercenaries. In a place where children were used as shields.

As_ weapons. _

He could still remember running through the swamps with the friends he'd made in his platoon. They'd been ambushed and all he'd been able to think as the bullets flew around him, whistling past his ears, was that the person he was firing at could be his kid sister's age. What would happen to her if he died there? Their father was long gone, and their mother, who'd turned into an on-and-off again alcoholic when he'd left, was no better.

He'd almost been glad when one of the little basterds had shot him. It'd gone straight through the bone of his leg, and he'd screamed in rage at the heavens above while his team had dragged him back to the base. But in the back of his mind, through the thick fog of agonizing pain, he couldn't help but think…

'_Thank God! Thank God! I'm free!' _

And now here he was. A damn handicap that had gotten so sick that he couldn't even get up to take a shit. Sick with an unidentified fever he'd caught in this godforsaken place that was slowly making him blind.

He laid there, waiting.

She came around the usual time that night. His nurse had long since left and he had no fellow patients in the room he'd been stuck in. He never could hear her coming, but every time she came close to his bed, a wave of utter calm settled over him. He always figured it was because whoever she was, she reminded him of the times when he was home: his mother would bake, filling the house with the sweet smell of her special recipe. She smelled like the sugar cookies his mother would make, complete with just a dash of too much cinnamon.

"_Xin chào, yêu quý"_

_(Hello beloved)_

He'd never been happier for suffering through 2 long semesters of Vietnamese in college.

* * *

"_Who the hell are you?! Where's my nurse?! Nurse!" he'd rasped, clawing at his sheets. His eyes might've been dying, but he could still see, albeit with a hell of a lot of blurriness with faraway objects. He'd just awoken to the sight of a tiny woman he'd never seen before next to his open window._

"_Không, không, không! Tôi có nghĩa là bạn không có hại, tôi thề đấy!"_

_(No, no, no! I mean you no harm, I swear!)_

"_Yeah right, girlie. You don't fool me!" Brick scoffed. His eyes darted about, trying to pinpoint something close to use as a weapon. His gaze quickly jumped back to the intruder when he noticed her edging closer to his bed. "Get back!" _

_She'd jumped, startled by his angry screams. He took a moment to examine her paused figure, taking in the pale skin and almond-shaped hazel eyes. The hair confused him some, her long, lush auburn curls not quite what he'd imagine on most Vietnamese women. She looked about his age, if not younger. _

_She pursed her plump red lips, lifting a hand out of her coat pocket. She stretched her palm out towards him, offering him the fat mango she held. Brick's eyes widened._

"_N-nurse forget you f-f- food." She said, her voice trembling over broken English. "Tôi nghĩ ...You l-looked hungry." _

_He squinted at her, sizing her up. After a few moments of scrutinizing (that coupled with a particularly loud grumble from his stomach), he reached out and snatched the fruit from her. He rolled it around in his hands, starving but still very cautious. His gaze flicked back to the woman, more curious than angry now. "Who are you?"_

_She pushed back a stray curl from her face. "Hoa."_

_Brick cocked his head, trying to remember the word. 'Hoa, hoa, hoaaa….'_

"…_.Blossom?"_

_Her smile nearly blinded him. _

* * *

Her small, cold hand moved to rest on his cheek. He hummed, a smile forming on his pale, chapped lips.

"Hiya, doll. I missed you today." He said softly, nuzzling his cheek against her cool touch. She giggled when she felt him place a kiss inside her palm.

"Miss you more. _Làm thế nào bạn cảm thấy?_"

"How am I feeling? Well…" Brick hesitated. He didn't want to worry her, but she could always seem to tell when he lied. He bit his lip.

"The infection's gotten worse."

* * *

_Brick hissed, clutching his thigh. Didn't the doctor say this shitty shit pain would be gone by now?_

"_Why the hell do you keep coming back?" he barked. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't fucking want you here!"_

_Blossom shrugged. She hiked up his pant leg, ignoring his complaints. Grabbing the jar of salve that rested on his night stand, she began to gently rub the medicine on his bum leg. Brick moved to stop her, but Blossom hissed at him and batted away his hands. "Ngăn chặn được một em bé!" _

_(Stop being a baby!)_

_Brick huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back. He watched her silently until she had finished and was rising to leave._

"_You didn't answer me. Why do you keep coming back?"_

_Blossom turned her face towards him. Slowly, a smile started to form. She walked over until she was standing right next to him, a hand placed lightly on his shoulder. "Lonely."_

_As he watched her crawl out the window, Brick couldn't help but wonder if she had meant him or herself._

* * *

"_Bao lâu?"_

_(How long?)_

Brick shrugged. "Maybe a week. Maybe a day or two."

Brick heard her drop her bag onto the nightstand. He scooted over when he felt the side of the bed dip, happily welcoming her under the covers. She nestled into his side, placing a hand on his bare chest. He covered it with his own, breathing in her scent.

_Home_

_"Bạn có muốn kết thúc đọc sách?"_

_(Do you want to finish reading?)_

* * *

"_I bring you something!" she cheered, waving around a book. Brick squinted hard, trying to make out the pictures on the cover._

"_Is that…Peter Pan?"_

_She nodded excitedly, bouncing onto the foot of his bed. "Có, có! Dó là yêu thích tuyệt đối của tôi!_ _Tôi sẽ cho bạn mượn, kể từ khi bạn đang mắc kẹt ở đây không có gì để làm." "_

_(Yes, yes! It's my absolute favorite! I'll let you borrow it, since you're stuck in here with nothing to do all day.)_

_Brick sighed, stuffing more of the weird fruits she'd brought (seriously, one looked a prickly orange eyeball*) into his mouth. Face full, he gurgled out a string of sounds that she'd somehow been able to piece together._

"_You…no read?" She sounded like she was gonna cry. Brick turned his head just in time to witness two separate trails of honest-to-God _tears _falling from her hazel orbs. Horrified, he quickly swallowed, nearly choking himself. _

"_I-it's not that I don't want to! I just...My eyes...I can't make out the words anymore..." _

_He lowered his head, a feeling close to shame consuming him. He couldn't walk and soon he wouldn't even be able to see. What kind of man could he be? How was he going to take care of his family? That is, if he made it out of here alive._

_He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he never heard her move. One minute she was by his feet, the next she had crawled up to him and was throwing her arms around him. He flinched at the sudden contact, the thought of pushing her away very clear in his mind. Instead, he laid a hand against her back and closed his eyes. It felt good to let her comfort him._

"_I read to you." she whispered._

* * *

He shook his head. She settled her head back into the crook of his neck. Brick could feel the tears falling against his collar bone, her small, cold body shivering against his burning hot one.

"Don't cry, babydoll. It'll be ok." He cooed. He moved his hand up and down her arm, hoping to warm her up some. "Everything will be alright."

"Love. I love you."

His hand paused.

* * *

_The first kiss had been her fault, he'd insisted._

_She'd argued that all she'd been doing was sitting beside him, reading aloud like he 'd asked her to that day._

_He'd come back screaming with "It's not my fucking fault you looked like a fucking angel with pretty red lips made out of goddamn clouds! DO YOU FUCKING KNOW HOW MANY PAINKILLERS I'M ON RIGHT NOW?!"_

_Her cheeks had set aflame, and she'd screamed right back, calling him every name in the book._

_He'd responded by grabbing her face and mashing his lips against hers._

* * *

"Brick?"

He grabbed her, pulling her to him as tightly as he could. She squeaked in surprise, but didn't complain, wrapping her arms around his lean torso. His body wracked with sobs as the unfairness of it all crashed down on him. His mouth disconnected with his mind as all the gushy things he'd kept locked away spilled out, detailing everything from how he loved her smile to how many kids he wished they could have. It was mortifying, but he was gonna die in a matter of days so who really gave a fuck?

"I wish I could see you." He whispered, pressing his mouth against her shoulder.

Blossom moved back a little, staring at her lover's covered face.

_"Brick… Nếu ... nếu bằng cách nào đó, bạn sẽ có được tốt hơn ... bạn sẽ ở lại tôi? Bạn sẽ mang lại cho tôi với bạn, trở về nhà của bạn? "_

_(Brick…. If… if somehow, you get better…would you stay mine? Would you bring me with you, back to your home?)_

Brick laughed, leaning forward to kiss her. "Did you not just hear the sappy ass confession I just threw at you, hun?"

"So…. Yes? You with me…. Forever?" she persisted, stilling his lips with a finger. Brick nodded, confused.

Blossom nodded back, pecking his lips and pushing him onto his back. She climbed on top of him.

"Ummmmmmmm…" Brick flushed, not understanding what the crazy girl was up to. Weren't they just having a cutesie moment? Maybe he wasn't that great at reading the mood, but he was pretty sure now was not the time for sex.

Blossom leaned down and seared a long, deep kiss into his lips.

'_Not that I __mind__, of course.' _

"_Anh yêu em, Brick."_

_(I love you, Brick)_

He moaned when her lips met his again and began their descent down his prickly chin and neck. She pressed a hard kiss into the place where his pulse beat the loudest….

And with sharp, sharp teeth, bit down, breaking into his skin.

Brick screamed in pain, withering under her as she sucked at his throat. His hands pushed at her tiny body, only for her own surprisingly strong pair of hands to pin his on either side of his head.

All at once, a pleasant warmth spread through him. Pain was replaced with complete pleasure. Under the bandages, his eyelid fluttered as his brown orbs rolled into the back of his head.

He whined rather pathetically when she finally let go. Blossom's hands made there way to the back of his head, and with trembling fingers, she unwrapped the white layers.

Brick stared at his lover with deep scarlet eyes. He blinked, taking in the messy hair, glowing pink eyes, and those red lips he loved so much, dripping blood down her chin and on to her chest.

She crawled off of him, stepping away from the bed. Without thinking, he followed her, throwing off the tan sheets and stepping onto the floor. It took him a few minutes before he realized he was standing up on both legs.

Blossom smiled. "Welcome to Neverland."

* * *

**I've always kinda thought Peter Pan was a vampire. What with the flying and kidnapping and the never growing old. All that's left is the blood-stuff.**

***note: the weird fruit Brick is talking about is called Rambutans, or Chom Chom**

**Plz review**

**P.S: I'll probably soon be continuing the first 3 posted stories, especially the Blue chappie you all seemed to like.**


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